


Our Town

by thomasjeffersonsmacaroni



Series: The Other 51 [15]
Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Inspired by The Hunger Games, Post-apocalyptic AU, Suicide, but then i lost it, shifting point of view, this is like the darkest thing i've ever written ever, well one time when i was younger i wrote something that might be equal in darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasjeffersonsmacaroni/pseuds/thomasjeffersonsmacaroni
Summary: A post-apocalyptic a la The Hunger Games take on Town of Salem, featuring character death, innocence lost, and a world where no one is entirely sure whom they should trust. Took me the entire month to write.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Summer Solstice Writing Event: Vigilante](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/260777) by TheDetectiveL. 



> Town of Salem? Did you mean: Screaming Idiots?  
> aka: 15 year old me still tries to skate around writing smut in 2017 (remember Records/Rewind, in which they may or may not have banged, and all of my other fics in which the characters got together but didn't do the sex?)  
> aka: I love all 15 of these people so much that I put the OC tags in the characters bc I developed their personalities, ToS just made their roles

**Day 1**

_WILLIAM, you are the jailor. You may pick any person to detain for the night and anonymously speak to._

The boy nodded and swallowed nervously as he stared at the screen.

"Yes, sir."

 

_POLLY, you are the sheriff. You may pick any one person per night, and the system will identify him or her as mafia, except for the godfather, the serial killer, or innocent._

The girl showed none of the nervousness of the boy before her. Already, she was prepared to do business.

"Yes, sir."

 

_ANGELICA, you are the investigator. You may pick one person per night, and the system will identify a list of potential roles._

The girl knew that the one before her would fail. And she was ready to do without her.

"Yes, sir."

 

_SAMANTHA, you are a regular town member. You have no special abilities._

The girl had been told this for all of her life. A dumb computer wasn't the first.

"Yes, sir."

 

_JOHN, you are a gun-wielding town member. Here is a gun with three bullets._

And the boy would use it wisely.

"Yes, sir."

 

_LAILA, you are a regular town member. You have no special abilities._

The girl was a million miles away, but she somehow managed to nod.

"Yes, sir."

 

_QUENTIN, you are a member of the mafia. However, you do not have a gun._

The boy didn't need one. What would he use it for, anyway? His mind was the only weapon he needed.

"Yes, sir."

 

_THERESE, you are a member of the mafia. Here is a gun with unlimited bullets. However, you may only fire it on orders of the godfather._

The godfather was an idiot. But the girl would have to survive.

"Yes, sir."

 

_ROBERT, you are the godfather of the mafia. You have night immunity, and you may give orders to the mafia killer._

The boy would lead the mafia to victory. And his underlings would have to be by his side, whether he liked it or not.

"Yes, sir."

 

_JANE, you are the serial killer. You have night immunity. Here is a knife. You obey no one's orders but your own._

The girl smiled as she took the blade's hilt.

"Yes, sir."

 

_STEPHEN, you are a neutral party. Other than night immunity, you have no special abilities._

But the boy had one special goal.

"Yes, sir."

 

_THOMAS, you are the doctor. Here is medicine. You may use it to heal anyone you like once per night, but there is only one pill that will work on you._

The boy would serve the town well. He knew it.

"Yes, sir."

 

_EMMA, you are a gun-wielding town member. Here is a gun with three bullets._

And the girl would use it wisely.

"Yes, sir."

 

_AARON, you are the lookout. Every night, you may pick one person, and the system will provide a list of people who visited him or her._

All his life, the boy had been looked down on and called dumb. Now was his chance to prove all those people wrong.

"Yes, sir."

 

_ALEXANDRA, you are a neutral party. You have no special abilities._

The teenager spat at the computer screen in front of them.

"Fuck you."

 

The children did not speak to each other. They didn't need to.

William chose Robert to jail at random. It was too early to have a clear idea without guesswork.

An automated voice sounded through the arena's speakers as they retreated into their houses.

"The night will now begin."

 

**Night 1**

_Jailor: Hey, how are you doing?_

_ROBERT: I'm doing good, how are you?_

_Jailor: Who are you? Like, role-wise?_

_ROBERT: I'm a non-gun-wielding townie :)_

_ROBERT: Who are you? Like, person-wise?_

_Jailor: I'm William_

_ROBERT: Okay cool, now I know you're not suspicious_

_Jailor: Yeah_

_Jailor: These games are really stressful, don't you think?_

_ROBERT: Mmm-hmm. I'm still worried about whether or not the town will win._

_Jailor: I miss my family back home, too. I hope I don't die so I can visit my little sisters again._

_ROBERT: Yeah..._

_ROBERT: I don't have any siblings, but my parents are old. I'm worried about them._

_Jailor: Well, I hope we can both get back to them._

_ROBERT: :)_

_Jailor: :)_

 

Samantha knew that she should be sleeping. Perhaps the sheriff would be sheriff-ing, the investigator would be investigating, and the mafia and the serial killer would be killing people off. And she should be staying calmly in bed and leaving the smart work to the smart people.

But something was keeping her up, some pull that she would never be able to explain. It rooted itself, though, in House Number Nine.

The house that belonged to Jane.

She was up to something, Samantha knew it. Her lights were on, she was pacing, and even though the official time when the sleeping drug would be released in their houses would be soon, she wasn't lying in bed.

_Maybe she's the mafia. Or the serial killer._

And that meant that Samantha couldn't sit idly by and watch as innocent people died.

She looked at the wardrobe of clothes that she had picked out the day before the games. Simple dresses, cargo pants, flannel shirts...

...and fishnet stockings.

Samantha reached in and pulled out the clothes that were more likely to give her religious grandma a heart attack. But she felt powerful as she put them on, letting her brown hair fly behind her, and as she applied some of the bright red lipstick that sat by her bedside. Then she wrapped a red shawl around her shoulders - the night was cold - left her house, and waited in front of her door until she got the official announcement that the sleeping drug had been deployed.

Three quick knocks, and Jane opened the door. Her black hair was let loose, a weave of it falling over one eye, and she smiled hesitantly.

"Samantha, right? Do you need anything?"

Samantha shook her head. "Just company. I'm a bit stressed, and usually I have my family to talk to."  _Keep her distracted. Keep her distracted._

"Well, actually, I had business that I needed to attend to. I'm writing down a list of the people in this town and useful notes about them."

"Oh? And what have you written about me?" Samantha gave what she knew, based on her experience from home, was a flirtatious smile.

"Nothing yet. Why, is there anything you would like me to say?"

"Whatever your impressions of me are."

Samantha took the step forward, onto Jane's doorstep, reveling in the girl's surprised expression as she took a step back.

"How I came into this little town, and how at first I was just a face among many, just a tribute among thirteen others."

She was in Jane's house now, looking her in her face, allowing just a tiny bit of the shawl to slip off, revealing her shoulder and slowly sliding down her back.

"But then I visited you at night. Let you take a break from your work."

Jane was nervous now, stammering, blushing, but Samantha knew that she could take all those worries away. Her hand reached up to the girl's hair, smoothing it away from her face, other hand sliding through the back of her shirt, burning her name on her skin.

"How did you feel when I did that? How are you feeling now?"

Jane's hands were shaking. She no longer seemed as if she wanted to pull away, and her arms wrapped around Samantha's body as she leaned in for the kiss.

"Bedroom?" Jane purred. God, she had such a sensual voice. Who knew that someone so evil -  _probably_ so evil, they had all been taught not to make assumptions - could be so goddamn sexy?

"Always."

The night was a misty haze of heat and pleasure, outsides so bright and yet insides so dim, and Samantha was happier than she had ever been in her life. She felt truly alive in Jane's bed, skin touching skin touching skin, and when she fell asleep in her arms, she felt warm and safe.

But then in the morning, when she woke up with a knife in her belly and a devious grin standing above her, everything shattered.

" _What have you done?_ " she screamed, barely able to do so because she was already weak. "What have you done? Jane, I-"

She was still naked, and Samantha would have admired her beauty had she not been so terrified. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to her ear, so soft and warm, just like the blood pouring out of the gaping wound in her stomach. It was almost comforting. If she closed her eyes and just smiled, maybe it could be.

But then Jane whispered. "You shouldn't have distracted me, love."

And then, everything was nothing.

 

_Pick one person to look at for the night._

There was a screen on the wall of Aaron's house. He would pick the name, and in the morning when he woke up, he would get results. That's what the instructions at the bottom said.

Aaron loved reading instructions. They were, in their own way, calming. And in these games, he most definitely needed calm.

Obviously he couldn't watch himself, and even if he could, there was really no purpose. And it was  _way_ too early to tell who was suspicious or not.

_Pick one person to look at for the night._

He had to choose someone, though. Eventually, he went with number nine. Jane.

_You have chosen to watch JANE for the night._

_The sleeping gas will be deployed in five minutes._

Satisfied, Aaron curled up beneath his covers and went to sleep. And just before the bell rang in the morning signifying that he had to leave his house, the screen displayed his results.

_SAMANTHA visited your target last night._

Aaron wrote it down in his will. This information, if used correctly, could be infinitely useful.

 

Even though their godfather - Robert, according to the tracker on Therese's arm - was jailed, the two remaining mafiosos still, for some reason, had to report to the secret mafia meeting place on the very boundary of the arena. Therese spent the entire night in the corner, alternating between fiddling with her gun and sighing. Eventually Quentin slammed his fist on the desk.

"Will you _cut that out,_ please? You're making me nervous."

"Well, you shouldn't be," Therese snapped. "We're the _mafia._ What are you doing at that computer, anyway?"

"There's some sort of program opened," Quentin told her. "I'm trying to figure it out. It must be important in some way."

"Tell me when you do. I'm going to sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and it's going to be suspicious if we're sleepless."

"I've always functioned well with little sleep. I'll try and figure it out a bit more, and then I'll join you."

"Okay."

Therese slept easily. She always did. And when she was nudged awake a couple of hours later by an excited-looking Quentin, she found it easy to transition from slumber to business.

"What is it?" she asked him. "Did you figure it out?"

"I did," he squealed in a whisper, smiling broadly. "I can pick any one person once per night, and the system makes them appear as the mafia to the sheriff! Who should I pick?"

Therese shrugged. "I would suggest picking people who act really suspicious, so we can take the blame off of ourselves and put it on that person, but for now just pick someone at random."

Quentin closed his eyes and ran his finger across the screen. When he stopped, it was pointing at the name _Aaron._

Quentin typed in a couple of keys, and the computer made a satisfying sound. And then the two mafiosos looked at each other and smiled.

 

Thomas paced around his tiny holding room, feeling miserable but determined.

He was feeling miserable because these pills felt too meager, and he missed his arsenal at home which had much more. But he was determined because he would save the town, and because the Night 1 pill loomed over him right now, begging to be taken and given to an innocent.

Or a guilty, if his feelings were wrong. But they rarely were.

 _Emma._ The girl was sweet and trusting, and perhaps she would be the target. He had no gut feelings now, nothing that he needed with all his might to follow, so he grabbed the pill, put on the required mask and voice distorter, and went to her house.

"Hello," she said, opening the door. Upon seeing him, though, she shrieked and dropped the plate of French fries that she had been holding. It was plastic, so it remained intact, but the fries spilled all over the ground.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm the doctor, and I'm here to save you."

"Am I in danger?" She was picking up her food and throwing it into the trash, hands shaking.

"You might be. Take this pill, just in case."

He handed it to her, and she popped it into her mouth and swallowed it.

"Thank you, doc," she said with a smile. "May I have your name?"

"I'd rather not. I'm still not sure if you're innocent or not, and I don't want to die."

"Ah. Gotcha. Well, thanks anyway. Good night."

"Good night."

 

_Pick one person to interrogate for the night._

Polly laughed at the use of the word "interrogate;" if she was a real sheriff, she would have a pen and paper and a gun, and she would torture the information that she needed out of the person she chose. But no. She was just a teenager at a screen, getting a set of words out of a system.

She could still be useful. She _would_ still be useful _._

 _Robert,_ she selected. He was number one on the list, and until she got more information, she would go in order.

And in the morning, she got her results.

_Your target is not suspicious._

 

_Pick one person to investigate for the night._

Angelica sat at the screen, which contained the names of all fifteen of the players but herself, because obviously she couldn't investigate herself.

No one was too suspicious yet, except for Polly, but that was just because Angelica had hated her from the start. But her gut feelings about these kinds of things were usually wrong, if she was being honest with herself.

 _Robert,_ she chose at random, feeling almost excited as she heard the _ding_ that signified that her selection had been confirmed and as she went to sleep and waited for the gas to be deployed.

In the morning, she was giddy as the screen displayed her results.

_Your target is mysterious. They could be the godfather or a neutral._

_Perfect._

 

_John, you are my favorite person in the world._

He had fought alongside Stephen. They had been best friends, living in the same house, holding twin guns and squatting in twin poses against the window.

_Please don't die. I don't know what I would do._

They had come for him. He had been unarmed for a rare time in his life, no gun weighing down his hand, and _they had come for him._ They had taken his parents, and he was left alone with nothing but his little baby sister and, when he came, Stephen, but they had come for _him._

_I'll protect you, John. I'll protect you._

Stephen had been a year older - no, not even a year, eight months and three days - and he had quickly gone from John's best friend into his older brother and even, dare he say, parent. They had lived together, just the three of them. They had been the closest to happy.

_I'm leaving for a little bit. I'll be back soon._

And they had come for him again, with big guns just like the ones with which they had taken his mom and dad. And all of them were pointed at his head, except for one, which was pointed at his sister's.

They had demanded information. And he had given it to them. And most importantly, he had given them his baby sister.

_How could you do this, John? How could you do this?_

Stephen had shoved him, kicked him, beat him. And then he had taken his backpack, and he had run away, and he had left John behind.

_I don't want to see you again. Don't you dare follow me, or I swear to God, I'll kill you._

And John didn't, and John hadn't.

Until now.

_You?_

They had met again in these games, met against all odds, and if John's feelings were right, Stephen was a mafioso, and Stephen wanted him dead.

He held his gun that he had been given in his hand. The feel was all wrong, nothing like anything that he was used to, but he could grow into it. He would have to grow into it, if he wanted to survive.

If he wanted to keep himself awake, resist the sleeping gas with all his power, sit against the doorframe with that gun in his hand, he would be ready to shoot anyone - _anyone_ \- who came his way.

They had come for him once. And John wouldn't let himself be fooled again.

 

**Day 2**

_SAMANTHA died last night. She was stabbed by a serial killer. Her role was non-gun-wielding townsperson._

Aaron sucked in a quick breath of air. So he had been right, even though he wasn't sure that he wanted to be. Moving quickly, he ran across the arena over to where Jane was staring ahead at the lynching post, getting her attention with a tap on the shoulder.

"Aaron, right?" she asked, turning around and brushing a lock of hair out of her eye. "Good morning. Quite a shock, right, seeing an innocent person die like that?"

"I know what you are," he said stubbornly. "Will you tell the town, or will I?"

"I have no idea what you mean. I'm the doctor."

"And I'm Her Majesty the Queen."

"Oh, is that so? I can see the resemblance."

"Really, though. I'm the lookout, and I saw Samantha visit you last night. And now she's dead by serial killer."

"She did visit me last night," Jane remembered, "early in the night, to stop by and say hi. And then she went on her merry little way. Just like you should. You're wasting our discussion time."

"I'm not wasting _shit._ I knew Sammy before the games, you know. If she came to your house at night, wearing that dress and those fishnet stockings, she didn't 'stop by and say hi.' No, she led you to your bedroom, and she stayed the night doing unspeakable things. I know from experience. Don't want to talk about it."

"Well, I've always been resistant to these kinds of distractions, you know."

"You say that, and I would believe it if it were anyone but Sammy. But _no one_ can resist Sammy."

"Okay, okay," Jane conceded. "I lied. I lied because I was ashamed, and I felt weak-minded in that moment. Yes, she led me to my bedroom, and yes, we did unspeakable things. But I didn't kill her."

"Well, then, why did she stay the night at your house?"

"She didn't. I kicked her out just before dawn, hoping that I would still have a chance to heal Angelica. But I didn't, because she stole all of my night-time away."

"Whatever," Aaron spat out. "I still don't trust you, _Jane._ I'm telling the town my theories."

"I don't think the town believes crackpot conspiracy theorists!" Jane called after him as he stormed away.

 

"I'm the sheriff!" Polly announced before her fellow town members, raising a fist to emphasize her point. "And Robert showed up as innocent. So don't vote him, y'all."

Angelica rolled her eyes. Polly was going to die tonight, and unless the lookout was smart enough to watch her, she would be useless now.

She herself was waiting until the right time to reveal herself. The investigator, as she knew, was a key role.

"Robert could be the godfather," Emma pointed out. "They show up as non-suspicious."

"Oh, yeah, you're right," Polly conceded. "But still, don't lynch until we have info."

_Well, duh._

"I'm the lookout," Aaron screamed, standing on tiptoes to be just a bit taller, "and I saw Samantha visit Jane!"

"I told you," Jane hissed, "she stopped to say hi, stayed the night, and then went on her merry little way. Stop trying to humiliate me in front of everyone."

"That doesn't mean anything," Polly agreed. "People stop to say hi all the time in these games."

Aaron fumed, and Angelica watched him and was tempted to go to him, but then she decided against it.

"While we're claiming roles," said Stephen, standing next to Polly, "I'm the investigator. Last night, I checked John, and he's a gun-wielder."

_What the fuck?_

_Angelica_ was the investigator, unless the machine on the first day of the games had played a cruel trick on her. But claiming so now would be incredibly suspicious. She would just have to trust Polly to believe her.

"Well," Therese spoke up, "I'm a gun-wielding townie."

"So am I," said Emma.

"I am too." John spoke last, and he wrung his hands as he did so.

"Why didn't you guys reveal when I did?" Polly asked. "For that matter, why didn't _any_ of you guys - other than Stephen, of course - reveal?"

"It's a useful role," Emma said. "Didn't want to die."

"Didn't see the purpose," John explained. Angelica noticed with a shudder that he was still wringing his hands.

"Nervous?" Stephen asked, as if he had read her mind.

"Probably guilty," Polly said with a gesture. "I'm voting him."

The arena shuddered, and at first Angelica thought that it was her imagination, but then a booming voice spoke.

" _All in favor of putting JOHN on trial, say 'aye.'_ "

So Angie had to act fast, unless she wanted an innocent to die. Quickly, she ran over to Polly, muttering apologies as she stepped on several toes, and knocked Stephen down to the ground and away from her.

"What was _that_ all about?" Polly asked, raising an eyebrow and moving to help Stephen up.

"Polly. You're the sheriff, right?"

"Of course I am, that's what I told the town. Why do you ask?"

"Because Stephen is lying. _I'm_ the investigator, not him."

"Why didn't you say so when he claimed?"

"Because I thought it would be suspicious. And I didn't want to reveal, because it's a key role, and I didn't want to die."

"You're acting very suspicious now," Polly pointed out. "I don't believe you, if we're being honest with each other. Remind me to investigate you later."

Angelica rolled her eyes. She had been wrong to trust the sheriff to be smart.

"Fine."

A chorus of 'aye's ran across the arena, but Angelica was one of the few to keep her mouth shut. And then John was on the lynching post, and no matter how many times he claimed to be a townie, the entire mob voted guilty, except for Aaron and Angelica, who voted innocent, and Laila, who abstained.

He did not scream as the rope tightened. He only whispered a single name: "Stephen."

As night-time crossed the town, and everyone returned home to face tomorrow's day with a fresh mind and a heavy heart, Angelica saw Polly pull Laila aside.

 

**Night 2**

_Jailor: Who are you_

_STEPHEN: I'm the investigator, I told the whole damn town_

_STEPHEN: You need to listen if you're going to survive_

_Jailor: You made an innocent gun-bearer die_

_Jailor: I don't believe you_

_STEPHEN: Well all I knew was that he was a gun-bearer_

_STEPHEN: I had no way of knowing whether he was the mafioso or not_

_Jailor: And yet even though you didn't know you made him die._

_Jailor: I despise you right now._

_STEPHEN: Then execute me._

_STEPHEN: You have that power._

William's hands shook above the keyboard. It was true, he  _did_ have that power. All he needed to do was get his ax and use it.

But he couldn't. If people were killed for making mistakes, then back home, he would have died thousands of times over. Maybe Stephen was innocent after all.

He typed out a response.

_Jailor: Not today._

 

_Pick one person to look at for the night._

Without a moment's hesitation, Aaron selected Jane's name from the list.

He was onto something. And he would discover the truth if it killed him.

And then he went into bed, but he could not sleep for a long, long time.

There were no visits to Jane's house that night. But Aaron was not awake to see that.

 

Therese was giddy as she hopped into the mafioso meeting room and grabbed her gun from the highest shelf.

"Whom do I kill?" she asked Robert, who was already sitting at the table and talking to Quentin.

"Kill Aaron," he said distractedly. "I don't think it really matters this early."

"Lookout will be on the sheriff or the investigator, probably," Quentin added. "Killing them wouldn't be wise. And we can kill Aaron so he doesn't cause us any difficulties."

"Gotcha."

The deed was done in a flash; Therese went to the supposed lookout's house, opened his window as quietly as possible, and shot the gun through his head. He didn't even get a chance to scream.

When she returned, she was smiling, and she smiled even wider when she saw Quentin shudder.

Robert smiled back. "Good job."

"I think Laila's somewhat suspicious, don't you?" Therese wondered, sitting up on the desk and fiddling with the pen in her hand.

Robert nodded. "The sheriff seems to think so, at least. She'll definitely try to investigate her tonight. Quentin, I need you to hack the system and make her appear a mafioso."

"All right." Quentin seemed happy to have something to do, because he seemed to practically jump in front of the computer and pull up whatever it was that he used.

"Yes, _sir,_ " Robert corrected.

Therese whacked him upside the head with the back of her hand. "He's not calling you _sir,_ nitwit. You have _nothing_ outside of the godfather label."

Robert glared at her. "Have some respect."

"Or you'll what? Kill me? 'Cause I'm the only one in this damn room who has a weapon, and I'm pretty sure it shuts off at any of our houses."

Robert sucked in a quick breath of air. Satisfied, Therese hopped down, tucked the pen behind her ear, and moved back to her house.

 

_Laila._

She was in danger, and Thomas couldn't explain how he knew, because he did. And his feelings were always right.

He grabbed the required mask and the Night 2 pill from his shelf. These pills always annoyed him because of their simplicity; he knew for a fact that the instruments that he had back home were much more useful than whatever this was supposed to be.

But no matter, if they worked. House Number Seven was the one that belonged to her, so he knocked on its door and waited until the girl opened it. She was tired, and Thomas pitied her instantly.

He shoved the pill into her hand without looking at her, and she looked at him quizzically for an explanation.

"I'm the doctor," he said, still shocked at how distorted his voice sounded. "And I feel that you're in danger tonight. Take this. Please."

"Oh, okay." Laila nodded. "Gotcha. Thanks, doc."

"No problem."

Thomas smiled as he watched her swallow it, and he was still smiling as he walked away back to his house.

_Another person saved. And the first one in this arena._

 

_I can't kill Aaron._

That was the first thought going through Jane's head as her killing time struck. Although she desperately wanted to - he was a pesky gnat who could very possibly interfere with her duties - killing him tonight would be much too suspicious, as if she wanted him gone because he opposed her.

So instead she picked someone at random - Laila.

Yes, Laila would die. Another innocent yielding to her knife.

But when she crept up to House Number Seven, the blade seemed to retract, as if the doctor had healed her, which he probably had.

Once the blade had retracted, Jane knew, it wouldn't go back to normal until the next night. So that particular moment had been wasted.

_Shit._

 

Laila was oblivious to her danger completely. Alone in her room, aimlessly watching a candle burn, the only thing she was focused on was the fact that she couldn't sleep.

Two innocents had died. Two people who had done nothing wrong, one killed by a mysterious sociopath, and the other lynched because he was one of the three that had been given a gun. And Laila knew that other people in her situation would feel anger.

Not her, though. All she felt was emptiness, as if when John's life had drained out of him and pushed into heaven or wherever it had gone, her own soul had gone along with it.

She should sleep, she knew. She had a long day ahead of her. But she felt a kind of pull towards the candle, and even though she was sitting a foot away from it and not moving at all, she heard a soft "crack," and then she was sitting in darkness.

"Oh, sorry," a voice came, masculine and familiar, yet somehow eerie. Laila was trying to place where she had heard it before, and simultaneously reaching for the drawer in which she kept her matches, when she heard another, significantly more feminine.

"Where are we, John? Do you know?"

_John._

Laila found the matches, and she relit the candle with two shaking hands. And instantly the faces of her friends were illuminated, and she couldn't resist a step back in shock.

"John?" she whispered. "Samantha?"

Samantha leaned forward and hugged her, and although it was cold, Laila did not shiver. She was used to the cold, and seeing her friends again overcame everything. When John joined the hug, Laila found the definition of bittersweet bliss.

"Good luck, Laila," John murmured. "Make good decisions. Bring home a town win for me."

"For us," Samantha added.

_For us._

"For us."

John spoke again, but his voice was weakening, morning sun already rising.

"And tell Stephen..."

Laila didn't hear the rest of it. But somehow, she knew exactly what John would say.

 

_Pick one person to investigate for the night._

This time, Angelica's choice was deliberate: Stephen, who had lied about his role for reasons that she couldn't understand. That was, if she was being honest, very suspicious.

And in the morning, she got her results.

_Your target is mysterious. They could be the godfather or a neutral._

Angelica narrowed her eyes as she stared at the screen. She would have to take anything he said from now on with a grain of salt.

 

Laila had abstained. That thought had been going through Polly's mind all day.

Aaron and Angelica voting innocent was understandable; Angie for some reason had hated Polly from the start, and Aaron was dead set on Jane being the serial killer. They at least had opinions, and they stuck to them. That wasn't suspicious at all.

But abstaining...

And when Polly had confronted Laila about it, had pulled her aside and asked her her reasoning, Laila hadn't given her a straight answer. She had merely looked up and away, smiling innocently and saying that she had no idea.

_Pick one person to interrogate for the night._

Without hesitation, Polly picked Laila. And in the morning, she got her results.

_Your target is a member of the mafia._

 

**Day 3**

_AARON died last night. He was killed by a member of the mafia. We found a will next to his body._

_Lookout:_

_Night 1 - watched Jane, Samantha visited_

_JANE IS THE SERIAL KILLER_

_LYNCH HER_

_Night 2 - watched Jane again_

_AARON's role was lookout._

 

Jane rolled her eyes and sighed.

"He keeps trying to frame me for some reason. It's ridiculous."

Polly nodded. "It really is. We have no proof, after all. By the way, I have news."

"What is it?" Angelica asked, genuinely curious.

"I investigated Laila last night, and she's a member of the mafia. We'd better lynch her as soon as possible."

Somehow Angelica had a suspicion that something was wrong. But if Polly was really the sheriff, and she most likely was, voicing anything would be even worse for her own position. So she kept silent, even as every part of her body desired to cry out.

 

"But she's not-"

Quentin wanted to say something, but someone - it looked like Therese from Emma's angle - stomped on his foot angrily. Instantly, Emma suspected something.

Somehow, Quentin knew that Laila was - or wasn't - a member of the mafia. The only way that he could know that, other than being the sheriff, was by being a mafioso himself.

Emma looked at her house, thinking about the gun that sat in the box at the top of the shelf. She hadn't gotten a chance to use it yet. But she would.

" _All in favor of putting LAILA on trial, say 'aye.'"_

The arena's mysterious booming voice sounded again, snapping Emma out of her thoughts. Seeing as she had been found by the sheriff to be mafia, she was among the wave of people whose chorus of 'aye's echoed across the circular plaza.

Laila had been daydreaming, but she protested as she was forced onto the lynching post to give her defense.

"I'm a non-gun-wielding town member, I swear," she pleaded. "By the way, Stephen..."

"Yes?" Stephen asked, leaning in, genuinely curious. But then Polly spoke over them both.

"I don't understand why you're even trying to defend yourself, Laila," she said in a grinding tone. "You're a confirmed mafia. Vote guilty, everyone!"

And everyone did.

Unlike John before her, Laila shrieked, loudly and terrifyingly, as the noose tightened around her neck. And when the pop-up appeared that she was, indeed, a non-gun-wielding town member, the only sound in the arena was the sound of intense sobs.

They sounded like they belonged to Polly.

 

**Night 3**

With his third pill, Thomas was tempted to save Polly. But she was an obvious target, and if he was being reasonable, no decently intelligent mafia or serial killer would go after her, knowing that he, the doctor, would be on her right away.

So he followed his second instinct, instantly making his way, mask on, to House Number 6. The house that belonged to Alexandra.

If he was being honest with himself, the short-haired girl whom he didn't know kind of scared him. He still wasn't sure about which side she was affiliated with, while he could at least guess for the others.

He would say serial killer or mafioso if he was asked. But somehow, he didn't feel like she was at all evil in the traditional sense of the term.

When he knocked on the door, she had a blanket wrapped around her body and a towel wrapped around her hair.

"Oh, hello," she said. "Who are you?"

"The doctor," he said simply. "I've chosen to save you. Take this pill, and you'll be immune to any attacks for the night."

"I know how doctors work," Alexandra said somewhat angrily. But she was smiling as she took the small case from Thomas's hand.

"Thank you. Really, I mean it. If it turns out I was attacked, and you saved me..."

Thomas smiled. Then he realized that Alexandra couldn't see that behind his mask, so he gave her a thumbs up. Alexandra thumbed up back.

"You're welcome," he said to her. And then he went back home, satisfied that he had done yet another thing right.

 

Jane was growing desperate.

Her first target had been against her own will, and her second target was either night immune or had been healed by the doctor. So, knife in hand, she randomly went to the house that she knew that no doctor would visit.

House Number 6. Alexandra. Mysterious, vaguely terrifying Alexandra.

And yet, when she walked up to her doorstep, the blade of her knife detracted until it was unusable.

Jane wondered how her life came to be this way. Something, or someone, had to be working against her.

 

"You were jailed on the first night," Therese remembered during the mafia meeting. "Did you figure out anything important? Anything we could use?"

Robert's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't think so. Wait - the jailor told me his name."

Therese threw her head back and laughed. "What an idiot. Who was it?"

"William."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier? We have to kill him. Jailor is a crucial role."

Robert shook his head. "Kill the sheriff. She might be onto us."

"Robert, Quent's entire framing strategy depends on the sheriff being alive. And now that Laila is confirmed town, Polly may be under suspicion from the rest of the town. We  _can't_ kill her."

"She's the  _leader of the town,_ Therese! She needs to die!"

"The jailor role is ten times more crucial! He can literally roleblock someone for the night and kill them if he wants to!  _He's the reason we didn't get a kill first night!_ "

Robert took a long, deep breath. "Learn your respect or I won't let you kill anybody. We're killing the sheriff, and that's that."

In a huff, Therese hopped off of the desk and towards her godfather, leaning close into his face and poking him in the chest. "You fucking  _idiot._ What kind of fucking system put  _you_ as the leader of the mafia and not  _me?_ We're going to lose because of you, do you realize that?"

She turned around and glared at the wall. "Goddamnit, I'm the only competent member of this entire mafia. If we win, it's because of  _me,_ not because of  _you._ "

For a second Robert paused as he watched his mafioso move. Then he shook his head.

"Kill the sheriff. That's that."

Therese groaned and looked over at Quentin for support. But he shook his head timidly.

"Don't hack anyone," Robert ordered. "No point."

"Gotcha."

"Meeting adjourned."

They reported back, Therese to kill Polly, and Quentin back home to fall into a deep, deep sleep.

 

_Pick one person to investigate for the night._

Jane was awfully suspicious. And maybe there was truth in Aaron's claim that she was the serial killer.

Or, of course, a lie in her claim that she was the doctor.

In the morning, Angelica got her results. They showed no leaning for or against either side.

_Your target deals with blood. They could be the doctor or the serial killer._

Angelica wrote it down in her will. The information was still useful.

 

_Quentin the mafioso._

It didn't flow from Emma's mouth when she looked at her gun and removed it from her case. But god _damn_ did it flow when she separated the idea from the words, when she remembered Quentin's confusion during Laila's lynching, when she imagined him not at front with a gun or with an ability to give orders but behind the scenes planning things out.

Behind the scenes, perhaps, to fool the system. To cause an innocent to be lynched.

Emma shuddered, but her shudder was not out of fear, but of anger. And then, she picked her gun up, latched it into the case attached to the belt of her pants, and moved to House Number Fourteen with a newfound intensity.

Quentin slept by wrapping himself in a ball like a cat. For some reason, that stuck in Emma's head as she aimed through the open window and shot him in the head.

 

_ALEXANDRA: These games are fucked up. Ever think about that?_

_Jailor: Who are you_

_ALEXANDRA: They take teens from their homes, they put them into an arena, and they insert mob mentality._

_Jailor: WHO ARE YOU_

_ALEXANDRA: Everyone in this arena is innocent. Even the mafioso. Even the serial killer. Because they were pulled from their homes and forced to kill to survive._

_ALEXANDRA: Think about that. Don't you have a family you want to go back to?_

William was shaking entirely as he stared at the screen and read what Alexandra was typing. Because it was  _true._ He  _did_ had a family. His two little sisters, Marie and Elise, were waiting for him. They  _needed_ him. Knowing them, they were crying.

And he needed to survive.  _He needed to survive._

"Tell me who you are, goddamnit!" he yelled at the keyboard, yelled through his tears, yelled despite knowing that Alexandra wouldn't hear him. " _Who are you?_ "

_Jailor: I don't care. Tell me who you are._

_ALEXANDRA: I'm a neutral. It doesn't matter who wins, I win as long as I survive._

_ALEXANDRA: But I don't want to survive._

_ALEXANDRA: Tomorrow, I'm going to behave suspiciously on purpose, and I need you to vote guilty. Can you do that for me?_

_Jailor: I can't_

_Jailor: We'll all be wasting a lynch, and I can't cause an innocent to die_

_ALEXANDRA: We're all innocent. Please, whoever you are. I need you._

_ALEXANDRA: These games erased me until I was a blank slate that they can write on. I just want to die already. Let me die._

_Jailor: I can't_

_ALEXANDRA: Okay fine_

_ALEXANDRA: But just know that I'm not what I seem_

_ALEXANDRA: Everyone calls me a girl, for example. I'm not a girl._

_Jailor: What?_

_ALEXANDRA: I use they/them pronouns and prefer the name Alex. But no one will listen to me when I say that._

_ALEXANDRA: I'm done with this erasure. I just want to die already. And if I'm killed at night, the screen will misgender me. I don't want that._

_ALEXANDRA: Let me be a rebel, please._

William's head slumped against the desk in front of the keys, head hurting as he wished he could be as brave as Alex. He was a coward, but he could do this one tiny thing.

For Alex. And against the games.

_Jailor: Fine._

_ALEXANDRA: Thank you._

_ALEXANDRA: Maybe there's a future past this hell, and I hope you're alive to witness it._

_Jailor: Thank you. Good luck._

 

**Day 4**

_POLLY died last night. She was killed by a member of the mafia._

_We found a will next to her body._

_Sheriff_

_Night 1 - Robert not suspicious_

_Night 2 - Laila mafia_

_Night 3 - Thomas_

_POLLY's role was sheriff._

 

_QUENTIN died last night. He was killed by a gun-wielding town member._

_We could not find a will next to his body._

_QUENTIN's role was non-gun-wielding mafioso._

 

"Good job, gun-wielder," someone remarked, and soon the entire town was clapping in delight. Emma smirked softly.

_Doctor or serial killer. Doctor or serial killer._

Angelica had to tell someone. It was important info, but she herself couldn't tell the town, because as far as they were concerned, the investigator was Stephen.

He was her only hope. He was the  _town's_ only hope.

Angelica walked over to him, grabbed his arm, and violently stepped on his foot. Stephen turned around and looked at her, mouth opening in shock.

"What was  _that_ all about?" he asked, trying to wrench his hand free. But Angelica dug her fingernails into its skin.

" _I'm_ the investigator, you fucking dicknozzle," she hissed. "Not _you_."

Stephen shrunk back in alarm, but Angelica continued leaning into his face.

"And I found out important info last night. And you're going to reveal it to the town, or I'll ask you for your findings and get you lynched.  _Got that?_ "

She continued burying her foot into his, squeezing as tightly as possible to cause more pain. Stephen nodded and let out a whimper.

"F-fine. What is it?"

"Jane is the doctor or the serial killer. Now  _tell the town._ "

She released him, shoving him backwards, and stomped off back to her space.

 

Stephen raised his hand, and Emma - she had taken over as town leader now that Polly was dead - pointed a finger at him, signalling that he was allowed to speak.

"I investigated Jane last night," he announced, a tremor in his voice. "And she's the doctor or the serial killer."

"I'm the doctor," Jane shrugged. "I told the town on the second day."

Thomas stepped forward and shook his head. " _I'm_ the doctor."

"No, I am," Jane snapped. "Thomas is the serial killer. Lynch  _him._ "

Emma looked at them and narrowed her eyes in thought.

"Thank you for your input, Stephen," she said eventually, "but we don't have any further proof, so we can't lynch just yet."

That was what Polly would say. Emma looked at her body and shuddered.

Stephen nodded and stepped back, giving Angelica a feeble glance.

 

"Random lynch?" Alexandra - no, _Alex_ \- asked suddenly. William shuddered as he realized that it was the first time that they had spoken.

"Random lynch?" William asked, a quiver in his voice. "Why would we do that?"

Alex shrugged. "Kinda gettin' desperate. And we have to do  _something._ "

"Killing an innocent isn't  _something,_ " Emma snapped, though she was evidently lost in thought about something else.

"Alexandra, what is your role?" Jane spoke up. "Because you're behaving really suspiciously right now."

"My role," Alex hissed with a newfound anger, "is my business. Not yours. Now leave me alone."

"I'm voting her," William announced.

" _All in favor of putting ALEXANDRA on trial, say 'aye.'_ "

A chorus of 'aye's, and each one was like a stab in William's heart. Alex went onto the lynching post with a smile on their face.

They had no defense. Obviously, that made them all the more suspicious in the eyes of the townspeople. And the vote of 'guilty' after their time was up was unanimous.

Alex looked at William as they were strangled to death. They were happy, so happy, and they seemed oblivious to the tears welling up in William's eyes.

They were tears of grief. But they were also tears of joy.

 

Emma's eyes widened when she realized that Alexandra was the non-immune neutral. With how she was acting, with how she purposely called for a random lynch to try and dwindle the town's ranks, Emma - and everyone else - had unanimously thought that she was the mafioso or a serial killer or something. But how she had seemed to  _want_ to get lynched...That was unheard of.

And that was when Emma realized that this wasn't a normal game. And that this town was defying her expectations in every possible way.

And  _that_ meant that Thomas - who she had thought was kind and could never hurt a soul - could very well be an evil role.

Emma looked back at her house, remembering once again the gun that now sat at her personal desk. She could pick it up again tonight.

Two bullets left.

 

**Night 4**

Angelica had doubts about almost everyone in the arena but herself. But the person that her doubts were most focused on was Robert.

Yes, she had investigated him. The first night, in fact. And none of the options that she had been given were town roles.

Neutrals weren't worth the lynch, but there were only two on the role list. Alexandra had been one. Stephen, judging by how he had reluctantly agreed to help her, was another.

And Robert...

The system, then again, could have been wrong somehow, as it had been with Polly and Laila. So she decided to check again.

But the results were still the exact same.

_Your target is mysterious. They could be the godfather or a neutral._

 

As Jane sat in her room fiddling with the handle of her knife, she thought about how everyone in the arena wanted her dead.

Townies won with fellow townies. Mafia won with fellow mafia. Serial killers, like herself, won with no one but themselves.

And Therese was almost certainly the gun-wielding mafioso, serving under the godfather, Robert. Jane had a distinct memory of her talking to Quentin, the non-gun-wielding mafioso. And as for Robert...that was just a very strong gut feeling.

But godfathers were immune at night. And he was an idiot besides, and the mafia would fall apart with him as the only person running it.

So that was why Jane took her knife, and she made her way to House Number 8, all the way to Therese's tiny bedroom, and quickly stabbed her in the gut like a fish.

Therese awoke in an instant. Frantically, she jerked up, screaming curses, and reached for her gun, but already, the blood loss was making her too weak to do anything but helplessly paw at Jane's chest and face.

"Quiet, now," Jane murmured. "Unless you want more holes in you, in which case I'll be happy to oblige."

The girl violently coughed, splattering blood onto Jane's shirt. "Fuck. You."

"I fear that Sammy may have filled that role already," Jane purred. "But I will gladly oblige."

More holes, in her heart, then her lower stomach, then her arms and her legs. For a moment, the knife dangled over Therese's head, but then Jane decided against it. She wanted to see her suffer.

Therese coughed a couple of more times, hands jerking up and then falling to the ground. The moment when she stopped suffering, merely went limp and blank as a slate, was when Jane smiled down at her and went to her bathroom to clean up.

The mafia was down. The town should thank her.

 

_Jailor: I know you're not a regular townie_

_Jailor: Both of them are dead_

_Jailor: Who are you really?_

_ROBERT: The system is wrong maybe??????? idk_

_ROBERT: Listen I just want to go home to my family with a town win_

_Jailor: And so do I. Except I actually want the town to win._

_Jailor: Who are you really? Tell me, or I'll get my ax right now._

_ROBERT: okay fine i lied the first time to get to know you better_

_ROBERT: and to relate to you better I guess_

_ROBERT: I'm actually a neutral party_

_Jailor: See, that's better. Good night._

_ROBERT: Good night._

William looked down at his hands. They were still, fingers gently touching the keys of the keyboard, but he shuddered as he imagined blood streaming down them.

Because when he had threatened Robert with execution, just like he had Stephen, he had truly meant it.

 

Emma had already announced to the system that gave her the sleeping gas that she intended to kill that night, so it was completely silent as she got her gun and latched it into her belt. And her house, too, was eerily silent.

Back at home she would have screaming siblings, overworked parents, neighbors running around chasing butterflies with sticks. But here...nothing.

But then there was a crash behind her, and when she whirled around, she saw her chair toppled over and a frantically apologetic voice. Emma would know that voice anywhere.

"...Laila?"

"Sorry I toppled your chair," Laila said. "Sometimes I have these random moments where I just turn solid and then turn transparent again. Hi, Emma. It's great to see you."

Finally, Emma realized who it was that was talking to her. Like a bullet, she burst up and wrapped her arms around her, shuddering as she passed through her, feeling an intensely cold, misty feeling spreading through her body.

Laila laughed. "Oh, Em, you were always so sensitive to cold. I don't know why I thought I'd be any different for you. They say hi, by the way. Everyone. And me, too."

"Tell them I said hi, too. I miss them very much."

"Polly says to remember to make rational decisions, and Aaron seconds that. Samantha just says hi. And I...I wish you good luck. And I wish the town good luck, too. I know you'll help them bring home a win."

Emma smiled and patted Laila's cheek. This time, she did not shrink away from the cold.

"I have to go now," she said sadly. "Good luck in the afterlife. I promise I'll help the town well."

"I know you will."

And then Laila faded away, as if she had never been there, and Emma took her gun and made her way, walking quickly, over to House Number Eleven.

 

Thomas's window was open when she arrived; they opened automatically every night just for the sake of mafiosos and gun-wielders like herself. And although the act was a quick one, and she had already put in the hours that she needed to to convince herself to perform it, the gunshot to the young boy's head was still one that echoed through her head and stabbed her through her heart.

_Thomas would never hurt a soul._

But if her feelings were correct - and they had been once before - then he already had.

 

**Day 5**

_THERESE died last night. She was stabbed by a serial killer._

_We could not find a will next to her body._

_THERESE's role was gun-wielding mafioso._

 

_THOMAS died last night. He was killed by a gun-wielding town member._

_We found a will next to his body._

_Thomas the Helpful (hopefully) Doctor_

_Night 1 - Emma_

_Night 2 - Laila_

_Night 3 - Alexandra_

_Night 4 -_

_THOMAS's role was Doctor._

Emma sucked in a quick breath of air, hands tightening around her shirt, fingernails burying themselves into her skin.

The town said nothing, most likely out of politeness. But Emma knew exactly what they were thinking.

 

While Emma stood staring ahead biting her lip furiously, Angelica was racing across the arena to Stephen. The boy was already ready for her to stomp on his foot again, so he was surprised when she merely tapped his shoulder.

"Yes?" he asked, turning around. "Is there something else that you want me to tell the town?"

"There is, in fact," Angelica smiled. "You're catching on. Robert is the godfather or a neutral. And I'm guessing you're a neutral because you got John lynched and didn't try to lynch anyone again."

"I _am_ a neutral," Stephen nodded.

"But in this narrative,  _I'm_ the neutral, not you. So tell Emma your findings, and I'll claim immune neutral, and then we get Robert lynched and eliminate the mafia completely."

"Gotcha." Stephen held his fist up for a bump, and although she was confused, Angelica bumped it with her own. Then, Stephen stood up and looked around the gaggle of people who were still alive. There weren't that many, only himself, Robert, Angie, William, Emma, and Jane.

"Guys, Robert is the godfather or a neutral. I investigated him last night."

"I'm the immune neutral," Angelica announced almost instantly, stepping forward to stand by his side. "Robert, what's your role?"

Robert quaked for a second before announcing, "Neutral."

"I jailed him," William confirmed. "He told me he was the immune neutral."

"But  _I'm_ the neutral," Angelica protested. "I claimed it to Stephen first. Robert had to be asked. Didn't he?"

Everyone looked at Emma for a response. But something in her had snapped when Thomas had been revealed as a doctor.

Jane stepped forward and took over. "I believe Angelica. Let's lynch Robert."

" _All in favor of putting ROBERT on trial, say 'aye.'_ "

Jane was first, and Angelica narrowed her eyes at her eagerness. But then she spoke, and so did Stephen, and although it took them more time, William and Emma.

"I'm the neutral!" Robert kept shrieking, hoping in vain that the town would change its mind. But everyone was silent, only pressing the "guilty" button when it popped up in front of them.

He cried as the noose tightened around his neck. And the last thought that ran through his mind when the life drained out of him was how much Therese would hate that.

"Good night, town," William whispered, holding up a hand in a smile. But before that, Angelica placed a hand on Stephen's shoulder, finally expressing a thought that had been turning itself over in her mind all day.

"The doctor is dead," she told him. "So that means Jane is the serial killer. If you side with us, then we can lynch her tomorrow. All right? I mean, I know you're a neutral and you win with everyone, but please help us.  _Please._ "

Stephen turned around and looked at his house, saying nothing. And Angelica, too, was entirely silent.

He had won when he lynched John. He didn't care about anything now. Or anyone.

And then, Angelica's eyes drifted to Emma's huddled form, forehead pressed against the door but not opening it. She bit her lip, nails digging themselves into her palm.

She wished there was something she could do. But at that point, there wasn't. And perhaps there would never be.

_Good night, town._

 

**Night 5**

_Icarus flew on clay wings, all the way up to the sun, but then his wings melted, and he crashed into the sea._

The sleeping gas would be deployed in 5 minutes, according to the timer on the wall. And Emma had put away her gun. She couldn't bear to look at it anymore.

She had learned about the legend of Icarus in school during the unit on Greek mythology. And they had always been taught that it was pride that killed him, how he had thought that he could fly up, up, up, and not even think to die. But Emma had always had a different interpretation of that myth. To her, Icarus had seemed less like a prideful man and more like a young boy who had a new toy to play with. She had even led the whole class in a violent debate about which interpretation was the correct one.

And that was just one of the reasons that Emma could relate to Icarus in this moment. She was either a girl playing hero with a gun, playing cop serving vigilante justice, or a woman surrounded - and destroyed by - her own pride.

Her gun was her wings. That applause, those cheers, when she had saved them, was the sun that she was constantly aiming for. And that voice booming through the arena, announcing that Thomas was the doctor, was the hot wax dripping down her body, burning her, destroying her, pushing her down, down, down into the waves.

Or into her house at night. Or into absolute nothingness. Or not at all.

_The sleeping gas will be deployed in 2 minutes._

Emma was an Icarus. But unlike the legendary hero, she was still alive.

Yes, she didn't deserve to be. Yes, no one had bothered to punish her, to lynch her as a criminal and an evildoer who had killed an innocent. But she was still alive.

The town outnumbered the villains, if her calculations were correct. They would win. And if neither the mafia nor the serial killer killed her, then she would win with them.

She would go home. She would get money, get glory, get fame, none of which she truly deserved. After all, she had killed two innocents now: Thomas, and the neutral Alexandra.

 _Three,_ she thought after a second. Quentin was non-gun-wielding. He had done nothing wrong.

_The sleeping gas will be deployed in 1 minute._

Emma wanted to be killed. Either by the true serial killer, or a mafioso. But she was an unlikely target - after all, she was prominent in the town, and it would be suspicious - and so she would stay alive.

Her gaze drifted to the gun that she had put away. There was one bullet left. And maybe, just maybe, she would take it out again. One last time.

_The sleeping gas will be deployed in 30 seconds._

It was cold to the touch, but to Emma, the feeling was familiar and warm. She placed the barrel into her mouth. This Icarus would fall not into the sea, but onto a carpeted living room floor.

A beep, signaling that the town was no longer awake. A bang, and blood spraying all over the room.

And then, nothing.

 

 

Jane knew that she was outnumbered.

If her calculations were right, according to the list of roles that they had all been taught, the game consisted of her, two townies, and a neutral. The only way she could win now was if she killed a townie - for example, Stephen - and got the neutral on her side the next day. Then, the two of them could do nothing, then she would kill another townie at night, and then the day after _that,_ she would lynch the final one.

It was a solid plan. But everything depended on Angelica.

Jane grabbed her knife, tucked it into her bed, and moved toward House Number Ten - Stephen's - devilish grin on her face. She could still win. She could still get glory.

She could still go home.

It was this very concept of "home" that she was thinking about when she heard the gentle sound of her knife detracting. And without helping it, she looked up at the sky and screamed.

 

_ANGELICA: Why'd you jail me? I'm a neutral party_

_Jailor: Robert claimed that, and he was the godfather. Who are you really?_

_ANGELICA: I really am a neutral party_

_ANGELICA: please don't kill me_

_Jailor: Can you prove your claims with evidence?_

_ANGELICA: How do I do that?_

_Jailor: I don't know. But do something._

_ANGELICA: Well until you give me a way I'm sticking to my claim_

_ANGELICA: Innocent until proven guilty, remember_

_Everyone is innocent._

Alex's voice rang in William's head. The night before, the day before, they had been a hero. But now, they were just stupid. They had died for no reason at all.

_I have to stay alive. I have to stay alive._

_Jailor: I'm going to execute you. The town loses nothing from your death._

_ANGELICA: I'm actually the investigator, if we're being honest with each other_

_ANGELICA: Stephen is the neutral_

_Jailor: How did he know the precise info?_

_ANGELICA: I told it to him and blackmailed him into revealing it to everyone because I knew the town wouldn't believe me_

_ANGELICA: I don't know why he claimed investigator, but it's actually me_

_ANGELICA: Jane is the SK, if you keep me alive then we can get her lynched tomorrow_

_Jailor: Okay_

Jane  _was_ probably the serial killer, if William was being rational. And there was no point in killing a probable innocent.

He logged off, slumped onto the table, and sobbed. He had been more than ready to kill Angelica. He would even have called himself _eager_.

How had he come so far?

 

**Day 6**

_EMMA died last night._

The speaker crackled for a couple of minutes, as if it had been programmed to say something, but it did not. And then, it spoke again.

_EMMA's role was gun-wielding town member._

"It didn't say how she died," Angelica whispered, looking at the body and fiddling with her hair, which was out of its usual ponytail.

Around the circle, there were nods of agreement. But then William raised his hand and walked over to her body.

"She has a gun in her hand," he murmured. "And a gunshot wound through her head. And she shot Thomas the night before. It doesn't take a genius."

William's heart pounded in his chest. Would he have done the same, if she had been given the chance? Somehow, he didn't doubt it.

"You know what to do, guys," Angelica said to the crowd - though it could not really be called that. "Get Jane. All right?"

" _All in favor of putting JANE on trial, say 'aye.'"_

William and Angelica said it without hesitation, though Angelica was sure that she heard Will's voice quiver. And then, all three present looked at Stephen expectantly.

"Help me," Jane begged. "Don't vote me. Tonight, I'll kill one of these two, and then tomorrow, we can lynch the other."

Angelica, for once, had no words to say. All she could do was place a comforting hand on William's shoulder as she looked at the boy looking between the factions.

Stephen did not speak for a long time. But then he shook his head and faced Jane.

"You tried to attack me last night."

"I didn't know you were neutral," Jane begged. "I thought you were the investigator. I needed a town minority, Stephen. Please try to understand."

"You didn't have to kill anyone," Stephen counterclaimed. "William hasn't killed anyone. Even though he has the power. And neither had John, back when he was-" his voice hitched- "alive. And the fact that you try to kill me, and  _would have killed me_ if it weren't for my night immunity, and then try to turn around and get me to lynch a townie, shows that you don't care about me. And you don't care about killing innocents.  _Aye!_ "

Jane said nothing, only gave a mysterious smile as she was forced onto the lynching post. William and Angelica looked over at Stephen with gratitude.

All of them pressed "guilty" at the same time. And then, as they watched the life drain out of the eerily silent girl, there were no sounds in the arena at all.

 

"So what now?" Angelica asked, looking over at her two companions. Almost as if the system had read her mind, a booming voice practically screamed through the speakers.

" _The town has won. WILLIAM, ANGELICA, and STEPHEN, wait as one of the government's helicopters picks you up and carries you to the victory place, where you will receive your cash prizes and be allowed to return home._ "

_Home._

It had been only six days, not even a week, but it felt like millions of eternities. Home felt like not a concrete place, but a land far, far away.

Stephen looked over at Angelica, as if he wanted to say something, but then decided against it. And then both of them looked at William, who had slumped to the ground and did not seem to have reacted to the announcement at all, and in that instant, each of them understood what the other was going to say.

There was a buzz overhead. Stephen and Angelica moved to pick William up.

**Author's Note:**

> There are some differences from the original ToS game - for example, the vigilante commits suicide over the jester two nights after it happened instead of one - but I had to put them in so that the plot would work.
> 
> Also. I've been thinking a lot about a sequel, so it's most likely coming during Camp NaNo July.


End file.
